The Last Days at Hogwarts

Harry and Remus both received invitations to visit the Weasleys at Christmas. They came in the morning post, and Remus sat at the breakfast table, looking at the parchment rather sadly.

"Don't think I'll be able to make it," he said finally, putting the invitation down.

"Oh?"

"I've been checking the calendar."

"Ah."

Harry guessed his meaning, and tried to imagine what it must be like having to organise your life around the phases of the moon.

"But there's nothing stopping you going," Remus went on.

"I can't leave you here alone over Christmas!" Harry protested.

"Harry, I'll be alone anyway, you know that - locked in my room. And you know Dobby can look after me. He always does. Christmas doesn't mean anything to elves anyway."

"Well - if you're sure . . ." said Harry dubiously, trying to imagine spending Christmas Day locked away in his room.

"I might well be able to join you on Boxing Day. Depends how I feel."

"Okay. Just doesn't seem right, that's all."

"I don't have a lot of choice in the matter," said Remus with a rueful smile.

"I suppose not."

Remus disappeared upstairs sometime on Christmas Eve, and Harry left some presents for him on the kitchen table, feeling rather guilty about abandoning him over the holiday. He rose late the next morning, and checked with Dobby that Remus was all right before going off to the Burrow.

He almost overbalanced on arrival, for he was laden with presents. Mrs Weasley swept off him into the living room where everyone was gathered. There a happy half hour was spent unwrapping presents and saying thank you to everyone.

Fred and George had dropped in for the day, although they were heading back again that night.

"Nice to have a break."

"Christmas rush. Nightmare!"

"Good for business, though. We've sold out of almost everything."

"New Year's going to be spent stocking up."

"And we've promised to behave while we're here."

"Not that we wouldn't have anyway."

"I'll take your word for it," Harry told them.

"Dangerous, that."

Mrs Weasley had produced a fine spread for lunch, with soup, then roast turkey, followed by an excellent Christmas pudding. If it hadn't been that Dobby and Winky were needed back at Grimmauld Place to keep an eye on Remus, Harry would have brought them along to help.

By common consent - and with memories of Christmases past - certain topics were taboo: chiefly Percy and anything to do with Voldemort. The twins kept the party going without needing help from anyone else: Mr Weasley was content to sit and watch the goings on; Mrs Weasley was too busy. The time until midnight flew by, until the twins announced they were going home.

"Party time tomorrow."

"Lee's arranging something."

"And that's usually bad news."

"So we need our beauty sleep."

Harry was given Percy's old room (with no mention being made again of its previous occupant). He slept in late again the next morning, and eventually went downstairs to find Ginny and Mrs Weasley in the kitchen. Ron hadn't stirred yet, and Harry was sent back upstairs to rouse him - not the easiest of tasks.

The Thomases were due at eleven. Mr Weasley had been very sternly warned about asking too many questions about Muggle life, but even so he hurried out into the garden at the sight of the black cab drawing up.

"Nice to have some empty roads," said Mr Thomas cheerfully, as he stepped out and stretched after two hours behind the wheel. Mrs Thomas, Dean and Olive followed.

"Nice to see some countryside," Mrs Thomas added.

It was a still, frosty morning, with the sun shining brightly through the low lying haze. Their breath condensed into little puffs of steam as they stood in the crisp air. Mr Weasley and Harry took them to look around the garden before going inside, and introducing Mrs Weasley to the Thomases. Remus had arrived too, looking tired but well.

"Hi, profess . . . I mean, Remus," said Dean.

"Congratulations on your apprenticeship."

"Thanks. I'm really looking forward to it."

"What did you have to do - to get accepted?" Ron asked.

"I could tell you - but I'd have to kill you after," said Dean with a straight face.

Ginny snorted, but Ron just looked bewildered.

"Muggle thing, Ron," Harry explained.

"Oh."

Mr Weasley handed round drinks - although since he was driving back, Mr Thomas stuck to pumpkin juice.

"Heard Dean talk about this - not bad stuff, is it?"

"One thing about Hogwarts - they fed us well," said Dean.

"And don't you get fed well at home?" asked Mrs Thomas indignantly, staring at her son.

"Oh, yeah," said Dean hastily, "but I thought boarding school food would be, well, a bit basic. And it certainly isn't that."

"So you're working at Ollivander's in the holidays?" asked Mr Weasley.

"Yeah. Earning a bit of money. And now I'm a proper apprentice like, he's teaching me all sorts of stuff."

"I was talking to him the other day. He came into the Ministry about something or other. He's impressed with you. And, of course, getting You Know Who's wand like that. A real party trick."

"Really? Well, he's been good to me. I mean, having Muggle parents and all that, and he's from one of the real old families."

"I think people are beginning to realise," said Mr Weasley quietly, "that it's not what your parents did that counts, but what you can do yourself. I mean, look at Hermione. She's going to go far, whatever she does. And Arbuthnot's helping there: he's eased out a lot of the old guard, brought in fresh faces."

"Why do people think like that?" asked Mr Thomas.

"Come on, you must know that. Isn't it the same in the Muggle world often enough?"

"Yeah, but not like it was."

"Same with us. Views are changing."

Remus was listening attentively. "Some views aren't changing," he said with a slight smile.

Mr Weasley shrugged. "One of Arbuthnot's secrets is that he knows just how fast to go. Get too liberal, and you get a backlash. There'll be changes, Remus, but don't expect them overnight."

Remus sighed. "I suppose not. And I've got to be grateful to Fred and George."

"They employed you for what you could do, not for who you are."

But then Hermione arrived laden with more presents, followed by Mrs Weasley, who came in to announce lunch - which, as usual, was excellent. Not even Dean could have complained.

Luckily, Mr Thomas was as fascinated by the wizarding world as Mr Weasley was with the Muggle. They went off to Mr Weasley's shed after lunch, so Mr Weasley could demonstrate what could be done with charmed Muggle artefacts. Remus tagged along with them. Mrs Thomas helped Mrs Weasley to clear up, and the youngsters went out for a stroll.

As they reached the top of a nearby hill they stopped to look at the view, then Olive turned to Hermione.

"Your parents have been really helpful to me, you know."

Hermione was nonplussed. "Oh? How's that?"

"Yeah. I went to see them one day, just after you'd gone back to school. You see, I didn't want to be stacking shelves for the rest of my life. If you want a nice house, like you have, you've got to have qualifications and such." Hermione nodded. Ron was looking at Olive rather nervously.

"So I asked them how I could apply to college. To do A levels and that. What subjects would be best, and what I needed. Anyway, they put me in touch with a college not too far away - they said it was a good one - and put in a word for me. You see, I didn't have much in the way of exams from my old school.

"I got an interview there, and the college took me on, and showed me how to apply for grants and that. I've finished the first term now, and it's been really good."

"She's been working really hard," said Dean, with a touch of pride.

Hermione smiled. "What subjects are you doing?"

"English, history, politics and media studies. The media studies is a bit of a soft option, but there weren't many others I could choose - not with the results I'd got at GCSE."

"Which do you like best?"

"English and history."

"It's funny," said Hermione quietly, "I had this idea when I was at school that I'd end up doing something like that - then McGonagall turns up one night, and I end up at Hogwarts."

"I dunno which is better. I mean, you learning all that magic stuff, or me reading Dickens."

"I try to do some reading in the holidays, but what with school work - there's not much time."

Then Olive turned to Harry. "And thanks again for coming to rescue me that time."

Harry was embarrassed. "It was Dean who got us out."

"Yeah, but you came along too."

"If it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't have been snatched in the first place."

"Yeah." Olive stared across the fields. "Last summer, we sat here, and you and Dean told me all that stuff - about Voldemort and all that - but until you actually see him . . ."

"What was it like?" asked Ron, curiosity getting the better of him.

"You don't want to know," said Olive flatly. And when Ron looked as if he was going to say something else, she added, "You really don't."

"Fair enough."

They were all silent now, until Dean said, "Come on. Enough trees and grass for the moment. Let's see what's for tea."

And over tea Mr Thomas kept them all entertained with his cabbie stories. He was a natural raconteur, and he had an audience that only had a faint idea of what cabbies did anyway. Dean and Mrs Thomas had obviously heard them all before, but they sat in goodnatured silence and listened. Finally, as the sun went down, Mr Thomas stood up.

"Long drive ahead of us all. Thanks for the hospitality - and for showing us . . . well, what it's like for you people."

There was a general movement as people gathered coats and scarves, then went out to wave the Thomases goodbye.

"Such a nice man," said Mr Weasley. "Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating!"

Something else waiting for Harry on his return from the Weasleys was the invitation from Neville. He picked it up, and read it through carefully. Neville giving a party? Hmm. Although Neville was far more outgoing and confident that he had been when he was younger, he didn't strike Harry as the party type. Neither did his grandmother. So, was this really going to be a bundle of laughs?

Still, it would be rude to turn the invitation down. Looking at it yet again, he wasn't sure whether Susan had been invited as well. Perhaps Neville had sent her a separate invitation. On the other hand . . . Harry thought he'd better mention it with his reply, and got an answer within a few hours: "Of course!"

Well, even if was the dullest party out, having Susan there would be some relief. He dropped her a note reminding her how to reach him using the Floo network - Grimmauld Place was, of course, password protected. So at seven o'clock on New Year's Eve he waited patiently in the hallway for her arrival. He studied the wallpaper: it covered a multitude of sins, including the place where that portrait of Sirius' mother had hung. But before he could brood on that any further, Susan stepped from the fireplace, not a hair out of place.

"Hi," he said, smiling.

"Hi yourself."

She was very elegantly dressed - indeed, he realised elegant wasn't quite the word. Her dress showed off her figure to full advantage. He gulped and realised he must have been staring: he caught a small smile on her face.

"Floo or Apparate?" he asked.

He really did hate using the Floo network.

"Oh, Apparating would be fine," she said.

"Right - well, the instructions are here on the invitation."

She leaned forward to read it, and he caught a whiff of some perfume - or was it just the smell of Susan herself?

He gulped again, then said brightly, "Ready when you are."

She smiled once more. Did she know the effect that she was having on him?

"Okay. You go first."

"Sure?"

She nodded. He handed the invitation back to her, then thought of the Longbottoms . . . and was standing in the hall of their house. He stepped away, and Susan appeared a moment or two later.

They looked at each other for a moment or two, then she held out a hand.

"Shall we go in?"

"Sure."

The room had been cleared of furniture, and there seemed to be a marquee beyond the open French windows. The windows had obviously been charmed not to let the cold winter air in. Neville was in the middle of the room talking to Seamus, Lavender, Dean and Olive. He broke off at the sight of Susan and Harry and hurried over.

"Hi."

"Thanks for the invite."

"Glad you could make it. Wine or Butterbeer?"

Harry glanced at Susan. "Wine, please," she said.

"For me too," said Harry.

He didn't know much about wine, but knew it to be stronger than Butterbeer. He'd probably better go carefully. If he didn't watch it, he'd find himself draining glass after glass out of sheer nervousness.

But Neville gave them their glasses, took them over to the others, and suddenly it seemed quite natural for him to be standing there hand in hand with Susan. Olive was retelling the story of how she'd discovered Dean was a wizard, and telling it well. Harry could see some others in the marquee: Justin and some of the others from the Defence Group.

Just as Olive finished, Ron, Hermione and Ginny arrived, and everyone began to mingle. Mrs Longbottom appeared a little later, and to Harry's relief she seemed much less severe than usual. She saw Harry and Susan and came over.

"How are you?" she asked, surveying the two of them.

"Very well, thanks."

"Before things get too hectic, could you come along and have a word with Frank?" she asked. "I know he'd like to see you."

"Of course."

Harry put his glass of wine down - to be honest, he hadn't really acquired a taste for it yet - then asked, "Can Susan come too?"

"Of course she can."

She led the way out into the hall and to the small front room that had been set aside for Frank Longbottom.

Mr Longbottom was sitting in an armchair with a book on his knee. He looked up as they came in, and Harry was struck by how much more alert he seemed.

"Harry Potter and Susan Bones," Mrs Longbottom announced, standing in the doorway.

Mr Longbottom smiled - not a terribly convincing smile, since some of the muscles in his face were still obviously not working very well, but Harry could see the feeling below the grimace. There were a couple of chairs in front of Mr Longbottom, and Harry sat down on one, pulling Susan down onto the other.

"How are you, sir?" He tried to speak clearly, without at the same time trying not to give the impression that he was making an effort.

"Harry Potter," Mr Longbottom said in a low soft voice. "And . . . Bones?"

Susan nodded. "Susan Bones."

"Bones - yes, I remember Bones." Harry could Neville's father working through his memories. Finally: "Amelia."

"Yes - she's my aunt."

"Ah." Mr Longbottom nodded. He looked back to Harry. "How's Neville . . . at school?"

Harry could see that Mr Longbottom was making a great effort to produce coherent sentences.

"Neville's doing very well, sir. He has a lot of friends in Gryffindor. That's why we're all here tonight."

That was pushing it slightly, but it was probably what the old man wanted to hear. The Harry realised that Mr Longbottom wasn't an old man, that he'd be almost the same age as his own father if he'd still been alive.

But Mr Longbottom smiled. "Neville's a good lad."

"Everyone really likes him," said Susan.

Well, apart from the Slytherins. But there was no need to talk about that.

Mr Longbottom nodded and smiled. Then Harry felt Mrs Longbottom stirring by his side.

"We'll bring some more of Neville's friends along in a little while, Frank."

Mr Longbottom nodded, and sank back into his chair. Harry and Susan stood up.

"We'll come in again before we go."

Mr Longbottom nodded, then his mother led them out.

"Thank you for that. I had to keep it short, because he does tire very quickly. I'll bring some of the others in after he's had a rest."

Susan looked at her slightly hesitantly. "How did . . ."

Mrs Longbottom's mouth tightened. "They were attacked by some of those disgusting people - Death Eaters, as they called themselves. Just after You Know Who disappeared that first time. Neville was only a baby at the time."

Susan put a hand up to her mouth. "Oh, no . . . that's horrible."

Mrs Longbottom nodded. "But he's been getting better - all thanks to Neville and that potion he found."

"Neville . . . potion?"

Mrs Longbottom looked at her askance. "What do you mean?"

"It's just that - well, Neville and Professor Snape . . ."

Mrs Longbottom's mouth tightened further. "Aye, I heard about that," she said grimly. "I must say, I never cared for the man. And I know that our Neville lacked confidence when he started at Hogwarts . . . but to bully him like that. That's not right."

"Well, getting the potion to work so well proves that Neville is better than most people think," said Harry quietly.

Mrs Longbottom sighed. "He's not had an easy time, poor lad. Anyway, I'm grateful he's got friends like you. That's why I suggested this party."

So it had been her idea.

Susan smiled at her. "What a good idea."

"But come along, you'll want to be getting to people of your own age."

And whilst they had been out, the room had quite filled up. The party had taken on a life of its own. Harry and Susan moved around chatting to people. They moved out into the marquee, which was more dimly lit, and where music was coming softly from some invisible source. Somehow the two of them ended up in a dark corner, and Harry was very conscious of the closeness of Susan. And somehow he found his arms around her, and her arms around him.

He had no idea how long there they spent there. They didn't talk to each - after all, it would have been difficult, given what they were doing. Occasionally they came up for air, but the tent could have fallen on top of them for all Harry would have noticed.

But the lights began to go up, and they began to realise everyone else was moving inside. It was with very great difficulty that they disentangled themselves to go through for the chiming of the midnight hour. And Harry found himself avoiding many eyes as they came through, hoping he wasn't as flushed as he felt.

The clock struck twelve, and everyone linked arms to sing Auld Lang Syne. Then great cheers went up, and the hubbub of sound began again. Harry found himself seized and kissed by Lavender, then Hermione, then Olive, before Susan pulled him away.

But Mrs Longbottom obviously had firm ideas about when parties should end. Neville was shunted forward for people to make their goodbyes, and Harry and Susan joined the queue.

"Thanks, Neville," he said.

Neville smiled. Then Susan leaned forward, and to his great surprise, kissed him.

"Thanks, Neville," she said softly.

It was all Harry could do to stop himself giggling at the expression on Neville's face.

They went out into the hall. Now what? He cleared his throat, then looked at Susan. "Erm . . . how about coming back to Grimmauld Place?" he suggested.

Susan looked at him. And he could see that she was considering what that invitation might mean. Well, so was he. Then: "Why not?"

Did she mean . . .? This really was terra incognita for Harry.

"You go first?" she asked.

"Sure . . . yeah."

Grimmauld Place, he thought, and there he was in the hallway, dimly lit now, with most of the candles extinguished. A moment later Susan appeared by his side. Now what? Nervously he glanced at the staircase, but then realised that Susan had noticed where he was looking.

"Your room's up there?"

"Erm . . . yeah."

She took his hand. They started towards the stairs. There was a half panic in Harry's mind. Was this going to be . . .? Exactly how did . . .?

CRACK!

Susan screamed. Harry nearly fell back down the stairs.

"Harry Potter is back, sir. Harry Potter has been to the party. And Harry Potter has a friend with him!"

An excited Dobby was standing a little further up the staircase, beaming all over his tiny face, his eyes goggling.

Harry glared at him. "What the . . .?"

"I was just making sure that Harry Potter didn't need anything else this evening," squealed the elf.

"Dobby," said Harry in fury, "just go away, will you?"

The elf's ears drooped. "Harry Potter does not . . ."

"Go away!" Harry snarled.

The elf abruptly disappeared with another crack. Harry turned back to Susan. She was sitting on the bottom step, her shoulders shaking. Oh, heavens, he thought. He hurried down to see if was alright.

Then he realised she was shaking with laughter.

"Your house elf?" she asked, half hysterically.

"Yeah," said Harry glumly.

He sat down next to her. The atmosphere between them had completely evaporated by now. It was just as well Dobby had disappeared - at that moment, Harry could have wrung his neck. And put his head on the staircase afterwards.

It took another minute or two for Susan to subside, then she turned to look at him. He gazed back ruefully.

"Sorry about that," he said eventually.

She gave him a slight smile. "Oh, well."

Whatever he'd been imagining - he didn't see it happening now.

Susan gave a slight sigh. "I'd better be getting back home."

"Yeah."

"Perhaps . . . well, maybe it wasn't a good idea, anyway. Not yet, anyway."

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

Harry forced a smile. "It's okay."

She looked at him again for a moment. "I'll see you again soon?"

"Of course."

She stood up. "Come here."

She gave him a final kiss, then stepped back. "Night, Harry."

"Good night."

And she disappeared.